


All in All, An Ending Is A Mere Formality

by MerHums



Series: The Grand Scheme of Things [4]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: A happy ending at last, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bonding, John delivers, Johnlock Fluff, Knotting, M/M, Nesting, Omega Verse, Sherlock Needs A Hug, Wedding Fluff, Weddings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-02
Updated: 2015-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-04 12:03:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5333411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MerHums/pseuds/MerHums
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The day has finally come that Mummy has been dreaming of for ages. Sherlock is getting married. </p>
<p>Sherlock is less than enthused to have to deal with family of course, but John is by his side. And as is the norm, more than one surprise will be revealed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	All in All, An Ending Is A Mere Formality

**Author's Note:**

> We've had an absolutely amazing response to this series, and we want to thank you all for reading, commenting, and kudosing. We really are nothing without our readers, and your time means the world to us! 
> 
> Thank you again, and we hope you enjoy part four and the final installation of [The Grand Scheme of Things](http://archiveofourown.org/series/330403).

Mycroft stepped into the room where Sherlock was getting ready, fidgeting with his clothes around his swollen belly. “You look fine, brother mine,” said Mycroft moving to make a few minor adjustments and turning Sherlock to the mirror. Mycroft still felt a bit weak sometimes, but he was getting stronger and Amaryllis was healthy and that was all that was important.

“How many have arrived?” Sherlock asked, wetting his lips. 

“Almost all of them. I know you’re anxious, but this is mere formality.” Mycroft fixed Sherlock’s tie and gave him a small smile. “Just have to get through this and then you can go on your...what did you call it? Your sex holiday.”

Sherlock smiled and cleared his throat. “Yes well.” He looked at himself in the mirror. “Where is John?” 

“Greg’s helping him. It’s almost time.”

“I look foolish,” Sherlock muttered. “Like a house.” 

“You look perfect. John won’t be able to take his eyes off you. More than usual. Come on, the ceremony is starting.”

Sherlock nodded, but didn't move from his spot. 

Mycroft took his elbow and steered him out, delivering him to Mummy before squeezing his hand and going to join his father and Greg. Amaryllis still looked small, but thankfully she was sleeping in her grandfather’s arms.

“Sherlock as nervous as John?” Greg asked, taking Mycroft's hand, and pulling him in close. 

“Quite so. This is why we eloped though.”

“Thank god. Aunt Lilah cornered me about Amaryllis earlier, your father had to save me. I almost feel bad for those two,” Greg said. “Mummy is frightening when she gets an idea like this in her head.”

Edgar nodded in agreement, rocking Amaryllis gently.

Mycroft squeezed his hand as the ceremony began.

**

John barely remembered the ceremony after. Only how beautiful Sherlock looked and how nervous he was standing in front of a room full of Holmses. He’d invited his sister, but she hadn’t showed, which wasn’t surprising. Then he was kissing Sherlock and he felt full to bursting with pride and love.

Sherlock wanted to melt into John when they kissed, being finally done with the ceremony, wanted to never let go of his hands. He huffed as John pulled away, and barely caught himself from going in to scent him and nip , despite the audience. He frowned, and held John’s hand even tighter as they walked back down the aisle, his mother in sobbing hysterics as they passed. “Where are we going now?” Sherlock asked in a whisper, a thought occurring to him. “There's two hours before the reception.” 

“You and I are going to get some alone time. Mycroft took care of it.”

Sherlock brightened as the hall door shut behind him. “Good. This foolish custom of not letting us see each other the night before irritated me,” he said with a huff. 

“I know.” John pulled him down to scent him. “I love you Sherlock, you know that, right?”

“Yes John, of course. Why?” Sherlock asked suspiciously. 

“I just wanted to make sure, that’s all.” John shifted his feet. “Come on, we’ve got a place to hide.”

Sherlock frowned, eyes narrowed as he went along with John, sensing that John was hiding something but not something bad, just something undetermined. 

John took his hand and led him through a passage, then through a door, and to another passage and finally a wooden door that looked like it had been there for five hundred years. John pushed it open, smiling as he bolted it shut behind them.

Sherlock blinked, taking in the room. “This is not what I expected.” 

“I know. But after how overwhelming the ceremony was, I thought you’d like some quiet.” John smiled and walked over to the bed, perching on the edge of it.

Sherlock followed him over, examining the curtained four poster, then walked to the other side, taking in the shelves and the walls, scraping cautiously at the paint. “This place was a gaol cell,” he said. “It's very old.” 

“And nobody will bother us. Or probably find us.”

Sherlock turned at the tone of John’s voice and shivered, licking his lips. “No they won't. Only perhaps Mycroft. But he will not interrupt,” Sherlock said, taking a step toward the bed, body thrumming with anticipation. 

“What do you need, love?”

“You,” Sherlock whispered, half expecting John to pounce. 

Growling low in his throat, John moved forward, catching his mate, turning them and all but dragging him into the center of the bed. He kissed him hard, mindful of the buttons even though all he wanted to do was rip off his clothes and get to skin.

Sherlock let out a moan, pushing up, despite the swell of his stomach being in the way, nails catching on John’s jacket as he dragged his hands over his back. 

John got his own coat off, kneeling back long enough to shed his own shirt and throwing it off the edge of the bed before finally getting the shirt off Sherlock. “Mine,” he growled, moving down and opening his trousers, wanting to get at the source of his delicious scent.

“God, John, please,” Sherlock panted, pulling away, trying to wriggle up to the pillows and out of his trousers, spreading his legs as he shoved his pants down. 

“Christ. Yes, Sherlock.” John got out of his own clothes finally, leaving them both naked. He took half a moment to admire the glorious sight of Sherlock naked before him, then dove down to nip at his thighs and lick at the taste of him.

Sherlock cried out as John dragged his teeth against the tender skin of his thigh, pressing his head into the pillows, pleas falling from his lips. 

“Mine,” growled John again, licking him open, savoring his slick heavy on his tongue, holding his hip.

“John…” Sherlock panted. “John yes.” 

Pulling back, John put Sherlock on hands and knees. “Gonna bond you.”

“Please,” Sherlock breathed, wanting nothing more than the feel of John’s teeth sinking into his neck, mating them together again. “John, I want it. Now!” 

John pushed into him and held him in place, pushing hard, knowing Sherlock could take it, that he wanted it just as badly.

Sherlock groaned, dropping his head in submission. “John….John, my John, my alpha.” 

“My beautiful omega.” John pushed his knot in and bit down, groaning his pleasure.

Sherlock cried out again, desire and a feeling of utter completeness washing through him, arms shaking as he held himself up, feeling John’s seed filling him. 

“God you’re gorgeous, and brilliant and I can’t believe we’re married,” John murmured, putting them on their sides and spooning his mate.

“You're mine,” Sherlock slurred. “Sherlock Holmes-Watson. That's my name now.” 

“I like the sound of it.”

Sherlock reached back, taking John’s hand and putting it on his stomach. “So do they,” he said quietly. “Surprise.” 

John's eyes went wide. “They?”

Sherlock nodded. “You were at the clinic, so I went to the last appointment alone. Dr. Richards was concerned because of an echo she heard, so we did another ultrasound. Turns out the echo was their heartbeats being out of sync. It also explains why I'm so large.” He brought John’s hand lower, where one of the babies was preoccupied in kicking. “I wanted to wait to tell you until after the wedding.” 

“Oh my God.” John buried his nose against Sherlock, tears stinging his eyes. “Oh my God.” Somehow this was more overwhelming than when he found out he was going to be a father. 

“John?” Sherlock asked, concerned at the tears he could feel. “Why are you upset?”

“I'm not. I'm happy.”

“Oh. Good,” Sherlock murmured. 

“Does anyone else know?” 

“Mycroft knows,” Sherlock replied. “He was waiting when I came back from the clinic.”

“Sneaky bugger. I'm glad you two are getting on better.”

“I blame you and Lestrade,” Sherlock replied. He pulled away, rolling onto his back as John's knot went down. 

John rest his head on Sherlock's shoulder and stroked his belly. “You're good for one another.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I know I can't always keep up with you. And Greg can't with Mycroft. But you can with each other.”

“You mean how our minds are similar.” Sherlock gave a derisive sniff. “I'm still the smart one.” 

“Never said you weren't.”

Sherlock shifted, climbing carefully to his knees. “John,” he said carefully. 

“Yes, Sherlock?”

“I love you,” he said, moving to straddle John’s thighs. “And you love me, despite my family, and my….few flaws.” 

“I love you with all my heart. And you love me despite my family too.”

“There is some research that indicates the possibility of a ‘perfect match’. That an alpha and omega pairing could be made for each other.” Sherlock frowned. “A bit like, soul mates, though obviously not as moronic. That the chemical signatures match.” 

John shrugged. “I was attracted to you from the first. I think you know that.”

“You’re not listening,” Sherlock muttered. “It’s not sexual attraction. It’s chemical,” he said, rocking back on John’s cock.

John moaned softly. “You think we’re chemically perfect for one another?”

Sherlock nodded. “Yes. But even if we weren’t….I don’t want anyone else.” 

“Me either. There's never been anyone like you.”

“It was always you, John Watson,” Sherlock murmured, and leaned down carefully meeting John for a kiss. 

John moaned and rocked up against him. 

“I want to ride you,” Sherlock murmured, reaching back with a shaky hand, guiding John in. “Please.” 

“Okay love. Whatever you need.”

Sherlock let out a low moan as John bottomed out. 

“God. Gorgeous. Perfect.” John held his hips. 

Sherlock began to rock, covering John’s hands with his own, dragging them up to his breasts. “Touch me,” he whispered. 

John moaned and fondled his already swelling breasts, still amazed by the changes in his mates body.

Sherlock’s breath came in ragged pants, already close, feeling the bulge of John’s knot at his rim. “John….” he moaned. 

“Come on love, bear down just a bit more.”

Sherlock nodded, rocking hard, pushing himself down with each thrust. 

John offered his throat as his knot popped in, crying out. 

Sherlock cried out with him, dropping to scent his throat, biting gently. 

John groaned and grabbed his arse, grinding and feeling the babies kick between them. 

**

Mycroft sipped his water and regretfully watched the wine go by. “I need to fetch our guests of honor,” he told Greg, passing him Amaryllis. 

“Good luck pulling them apart,” Greg said with a laugh, taking the baby and cooing at her. 

Amaryllis scrunched up her face like she was about to cry and Mycroft took the chance to get out while he could. 

He reached the room and knocked on the door. 

“Go away!” Sherlock shouted, John muttering his disapproval with a chuckle. 

“Come on, love,” John said. “We do need to make an appearance.” 

Sherlock huffed, tucking his head into John’s shoulder. “No.” 

John kissed his forehead. “Come on, love. You need to eat.”

“Eating is boring,” Sherlock said as Mycroft rapped impatiently on the door once more. “I don’t want to go back out there,” he muttered, tucking his head into John’s shoulder again, nuzzling at the bite mark he’d left. “You’re mine, not theirs.” 

“And we have plenty of time for that. Come on.” John heaved him over and got out of bed. “We’re coming.”

Sherlock sat on the edge of the bed, curling his knees up as best he could, hiding his face away as John got dressed. 

“What’s the matter, love?” John brought him his clothes.

“I don’t want to go back out,” Sherlock repeated, feeling tears welling up and hating himself for it. 

John came and sat by his side. “Too many people?”

Sherlock shook his head. “They all want to speak with me, and rub my stomach and praise me for being such a good omega. But all I want to do it be with you, away from everyone, and I don’t know why,” he whispered. “And I’m being foolish, and sentimental, and I…” He trailed off, hands pressed to his stomach.

John unbolted the door and tugged a shirt over him. “I know, sweetheart.” He got trousers on him just as Mycroft opened the door, took in the scene, stepped in, and closed it again. 

Mycroft looked at Sherlock, hesitated, and came to his side. “Should I tell Mummy you aren’t feeling well?”

Sherlock shook his head. “That would be unwise,” he mumbled, breath hitching. “I'll be fine. I just...can I hold Amaryllis?” 

“Of course. I’ll bring her to you. And I’ll let Mummy know we’ll be a few minutes late.”

Sherlock nodded and then rolled onto his side, curling into a ball around his belly. John frowned and stroked a hand through his hair. “It's been a stressful day, honeybee,” he murmured as Mycroft left. “And the hormones probably aren't helping. Don't feel bad.” 

Sherlock just huffed, waiting for Mycroft to come back.

Mycroft returned in record time, placing his daughter in Sherlock’s arms. Greg lingered just outside the door. 

Sherlock looked up and met his eyes. “Come in, Lestrade,” he said, patting the bed beside Mycroft. 

Greg raised an eyebrow, but did as he was told, letting Sherlock pull him in and position him as he wanted. John curled against Sherlock's side, wiggling his fingers in front of the baby as Mycroft obeyed his brothers silent plea and curled between Greg and Sherlock. 

“Is that better?” John asked softly. “We're all here now, all right?” 

Sherlock nodded, looking down. “I don't understand why,” he said, looking to Mycroft for the answer. 

“Family. This is safe for you,” he said softly. “This is a nest and our scents together are particularly calming. You know nobody will harm you and we’ll all keep you safe.”

“I must have deleted that concept,” Sherlock said, swallowing hard. He tucked his face into John’s neck again, brushing his lips over his scent gland. Mycroft reached up and ran fingers through his hair. Amaryllis fussed a bit, then settled down in Sherlock’s arms. Mycroft smiled at the sight of the little baby curled up in Sherlock’s arm, just laying against the swell of his belly.

Sherlock just lay there, breathing in their mingling scents, taking in the comfort of his family, carding his fingers through Amaryllis’ curls as Mycroft did the same to him.

“I suppose we should go,” Sherlock said after a long while, though he was still loathe to move, eyes still closed as he nuzzled into John. 

“Are you ready?” asked John.

“No,” Sherlock muttered. “But if we go, then we can leave. And then we can have our sex holiday.” 

John chuckled. “Come on, love. Just a few more hours.”

Greg rolled his eyes, and went to take Amaryllis, but stopped as Sherlock tightened his grip. “Can I keep her a little longer?” he asked, looking between Mycroft and Greg. 

Mycroft nodded. “It’s fine. You’ll have your own to hold soon enough. But you aren’t taking her on holiday with you.”

“Of course not, she’d get in the way of John fucking me,” Sherlock said glibly. He shifted, carefully standing, and leaving the room, muttering something about elder brothers for only Amaryllis to hear. 

John shook his head and smiled at the others, following Sherlock out.

Greg looked at Mycroft. “Well. He's got our daughter, and Mummy will be more than distracted. Anything you wanna do with the free time?” 

Mycroft leaned in and scented him. “What were you thinking?”

“Out to the car for a quick one?” Greg asked with a winning smile as his hand crept over Mycroft's arse. “We’ll pretend we're having a sex holiday.” 

Mycroft shivered. “With all my family here?” he said, not really protesting.

“Wouldn't be the first time. In fact, just for old times sake, you should bugger me while I ride you in the front seat. All very posh that way.” 

Mycroft leaned in and nipped his throat. “Do you have any lube?”

Greg grinned, and pulled open the drawer beside the bed. “That door locks, if you’d rather not go find the car.” 

“I think we parked in a secluded enough spot.” Mycroft enjoyed the thrill of taking chances like this.

“Excellent.” Greg grabbed the lube, grabbed his hand and dragged them both out and down the hall.

Mycroft stole a kiss as they reached the outdoors. They quickly found the car and Greg opened the door, all but shoving Mycroft into the passenger seat.

“God, it's been too long,” Greg muttered, climbing into his lap.

“It’s quiet,” he said softly, closing the door and and cupping Greg’s hips. 

“Everyone's inside, and there's no crying baby interrupting,” Greg said, smiling down at him.

Mycroft opened Greg’s flies. “You’re gorgeous.”

“You're beautiful,” Greg replied, carding a hand through his hair.

“I do my best,” sighed Mycroft, mouthing his throat. “I just hope it’s enough.”

“You are more than enough for me,” Greg murmured. “My beautiful, brilliant, omega. Such a good mother to our pup.” He shifted, allowing Mycroft to push his trousers down before moving back onto him, hands going between them to free his cock. 

Mycroft moaned softly, kissing Greg, needing him, needing this moment.

“Here.” Greg pressed the lube into his hand. “C’mon love. I need you.” 

Mycroft slicked his fingers and pressed two into him. “I want you hard.”

“Take me hard,” Greg moaned. “Just take me now. I want to feel you for days, My.” 

Groaning, Mycroft, fingered him roughly before lifting him and shoving up.

Greg cried out, dropping his head to Mycroft’s shoulder. “Fuck, My. Yes.” 

“Shh, don’t want them to hear us,” whispered Mycroft, driving up into his alpha.

Greg bit down on Mycroft’s shoulder, muffling his cries as Mycroft thrust up, curling a hand around his cock and stroking.

“Mine, Gregory,” he whispered harshly, breathing coming in short pants. “We are going to leave Amaryllis with Mrs. Hudson and you and I aren’t coming out of room for an entire weekend.”

“God yes,” Greg muttered, muffled as he rocked his hips up and then back down onto Mycroft’s cock. “Want you so much.”

“Are you going to come for me? Best grab something, I don’t have a spare suit to change into.”

Greg’s breath stuttered, and a gleam appeared in his eye. He reached forward, yanking Mycroft’s shirt up, revealing his pale stomach, littered with stretch marks. “Mine,” he growled, and came hard, coating Mycroft’s skin. 

Mycroft gasped and came himself with stuttering hips, the scent of his mate filling the small space.

“God, My,” Greg breathed. “God.” 

“You are a wicked man,” muttered Mycroft.

Greg moaned in agreement, raising up with shaking thighs only to fall down between Mycroft’s legs, lapping his stomach clean. 

Mycroft moaned again, running fingers through his hair. “We should get back before they miss us.”

“Do we have too?” Greg asked, looking up and smiling at him. “I’m happy right here,” he said, laying his head on Mycroft’s thigh, shivering at the feeling of come dripping from him. 

“Sorry love, but we must.”

“Mm, but I’m messy,” Greg said with a smirk, pretending to pout. “If we get in the backseat, you could clean me up.” 

Mycroft pulled a bag from the back and pulled out a plug. “Lucky this was still back there.”

Greg grinned. “Always ready for anything, aren’t you?” he teased, kissing the head of Mycroft’s cock before tucking him away. “Got a toothbrush too?” 

Mycroft nodded and handed him one. 

Greg started to laugh. “Oh my god, Mycroft. It was a joke, love. How the hell-never mind.” 

“Would you believe I was an Eagle Scout?”

“I would now,” Greg said, opening the door and practically falling out. “Shit, shit.” Mycroft grabbed him around the waist and Greg grinned. “Thanks love. Wanna plug me up too while you’re back there?” 

Mycroft shook his head and pushed it in. 

Greg hissed and shifted his hips as the plug settled. He wiggled out of the car, yanking his trousers up as he stood. “There we go,” he said. 

Mycroft kissed him and fixed his clothes, only to turn and finding Aunt Lilah staring at them. 

She gave a low harrumph, cigarette pursed between her lips. “I was young once too you know,” she grumbled, taking a drag. “We didn't have cars too do it in though. Had to figure it out. This one time, I was in a church for a wedding, had a fling with the bell ringer. Bells rang early that day,” she smirked. 

Mycroft blushed. “See you inside Aunt Lilah.”

Greg waited until they got around the corner to break out in hysterical laughter, doubled over. 

“Dear God, can I drink enough to get rid of that mental image?” asked Mycroft, leaning against the building.

“No,” Greg wheezed. 

Mycroft looked skyward and shook his head. “Come on.”

Greg wiped his eyes, and followed Mycroft in. 

**

John smiled as he watched Sherlock talking to the guests, still cradling Amaryllis. He heard a familiar voice clear behind him and turned, surprised to see Harry standing there, looking awkward. “You came,” he said, going to her.

Harry scratched the back of her head awkwardly. “Missed the wedding though,” she said, voice scratchy. “They uh...didn’t release me in time. I got the invite though, don’t know how you knew where I was.” 

“I didn’t know.” He glanced towards Sherlock and looked back at his sister. “The important thing is you’re here now. You’re going to be an aunt to twins.”

“Twins?” Harry asked incredulously. “Jesus, John.” 

“That’s more or less what I said.”

“That fucking mental. You're sure it's only two right?” 

John shook his head. “God, Harry, don’t make me question it.”

“Just sayin’. It runs in the family.” 

“I know it does,” John smiled at her. “As far as I know it’s just two.”

“So am I too late for the first dance?” 

“Actually no, we were just waiting for Mycroft and Greg to show up. First dance is with Sherlock, but, since you’re here, for the second dance Sherlock can dance with his Mummy and I can dance with you.”

“You...you want to?” Harry asked hopefully. 

“It would be my honor. Ah, there’s Greg and Mycroft now. I really don’t want to know what they’ve been up to.”

Harry looked and snorted. “I think we could guess by the way that one's walking. Which one is Sherlock’s brother?” 

“The redhead. The baby Sherlock is currently attached to is his brother’s.” They watched Mycroft go and collect his daughter.

“Time for the dance then?” Harry asked with a smile. 

“Yes. Don’t go anywhere.” He squeezed her hand and went to collect his mate.

Sherlock looked up as John came over, stepping away from an unnamed cousin. “John?” 

“Time for our first dance,” smiled John warmly, offering his hand.

“But we've danced before. I taught you,” Sherlock said, taking his hand. “How is this the first?” 

“The first dance at a wedding is between the bride and groom.”

“Deleted it. Omega or not, I'm leading,” Sherlock announced. 

“You're a better dancer anyway.” He smiled and settled in Sherlock’s arms. 

**

“Thank you for coming,” said Mycroft quietly to Harry as he stood next to her. 

“You were the reason I got an invite? John didn't know where I was, so it was you or Sherlock,” Harry said bluntly.

“Yes, well. I thought you'd both like it.”

“I...thanks,” Harry said, shaking her head. “So this little thing is yours huh?” she asked, looking at Amaryllis. 

Mycroft smiled. “Would you like to hold her?”

“Can I?” Harry asked, brightening. Mycroft passed her over and Harry immediately cooed, the alpha grinning down at the baby. “Always wanted kids. Just know I’d be bad for them, you know?” she said. “John was always the responsible one.” 

“He has his moments. I never thought I would have children. She turned my life upside in all the best ways.”

“Really?” Harry asked, rocking Amaryllis as she scrunched her face up in protest. “Surprise, was she?” 

“Yes. My birth control failed. Which turned into an emergency at her birth. But we both pulled through.”

“Well, shit. Glad you did. John and Sherlock would miss ya.” 

“My brother, my mate and my child needed me. How are you doing?”

“I’m….I’m out again. And I’m surrounded by alcohol. How do you think I’m doing?” Harry asked, meeting his eyes. 

“Do you need to step out?”

Harry took a shuddering breath. “No. I’m here for John. I need to learn to handle this.” 

“If you need anything at all, please let me know.” The dance came to an end and John came beaming to his sister. 

“I will,” Harry said, turning to grin at John. “He doesn’t let you lead, huh? Can’t blame him. You were always a crap dancer.”

“Oi,” John protested without venom. “Shut up and pass the baby off. Time for the second dance. Sherlock wants to get it over with.” 

Mycroft smiled and watched Mummy lead a huffy Sherlock to the floor. 

**

“I do hope you’re pleased with yourself,” Sherlock muttered, letting Mummy guide him around the floor. 

“Very much so,” she said with a smile. 

Sherlock huffed. 

“Both my boys are married to good mates and I'm about to have grandchildren underfoot. And I know you're happy.”

“I am yes. Mycroft getting away with eloping, that does not make me happy,” Sherlock said, as they swirled past John and Harry.

“Well he needed to get married before their pup was born.”

“Nonsense,” Sherlock muttered. “It was an excuse.” 

“But thank you for doing this.”

Sherlock sighed. “I only agreed for you mummy. I know how you wanted this terribly.” 

“Your father did too.” She nodded to where he was playing the music for their dance. 

Sherlock couldn’t help a small smile. “Really? Why?” 

“He may not say much, but your father loves you and Mycroft very much.”

“Mm. Sentiment,” Sherlock said, looking over at him. “He always was terribly affected by it.” 

“And so are you and your brother.”

Sherlock stiffened. “In...certain cases, yes, perhaps,” he muttered, glancing over as John stepped by with Harry. 

“I know I never expressed it much but I am very proud of both of you.”

Sherlock flushed, averting his eyes as the song ended. “Thank you, mummy,” he murmured, one hand going to his belly. “I...am glad I was raised by you and father.”

“Me too. We did our best and I know you will too. Go on, John’s waiting.“

Sherlock smiled, and turned, walking over to where John waited. He took his hand, stepping into the circle of his arms with a content sigh, once again feeling at ease and loved.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! You can find us on AO3 at [Janto321 ](http://archiveofourown.org/users/FaceofMer/)and [HumsHappily](http://archiveofourown.org/users/humshappily) or on tumblr at [merindab ](http://merindab.tumblr.com)(janto321) and [HumsHappily](http://hums-happily.tumblr.com)!


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